


Gaining Ground

by japastiel



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Anal Sex, Angst, Beleriand, Bisexual Male Character, Biting, Explicit Sex, Fantasy Fulfillment, Fingering, First Time, Fluff, Incest, Jealousy, Kissing, M/M, Marking, Pining, Porn, Rimming, Romance, Scent Marking, Smut, breach of privacy, brief mentions of curvos wife, canon-verse, everyone gets a cliche!!!, explicit incest, explicit incest? is that a thing?, himlad, i'm the oprah of cliches, its a thing..., mountains of pent up guilt and sexual frustrations, mututal pining, oh boy lots of jealousy, sexcapades in himlad, you get a cliche!, you get a cliche!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-27
Packaged: 2018-04-21 02:41:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4811900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/japastiel/pseuds/japastiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a tale of how looking for a book on local plant life lands Celegorm in a sticky situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Journal

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much to [coraregina](http://coraregina.tumblr.com/), my amazing beta and partner in crime. this wouldn't have been possible without you. <3

           Celegorm closes the door to his brother’s private chambers behind him. Curufin had shouted over the clanging noise in the fortress forge that the book he was seeking was on his personal writing desk in his bedchamber; the large one, bound in red leather, on the right of the bottom shelf. Then he’d quickly turned back to his work, re-designing armor from the looks of it.

          Celegorm rummages around Curufin’s curiously chaotic desk. Quills and ink are left out, loose parchment and scrolls haphazardly covering the table top. The book laid open on top is bound in a rich burgundy, but it’s too small to be the one he’s looking for and it’s written in Curufin’s distinctly sharp and  messy hand. He definitely wouldn't be adding notes to a book on wild botany, not his area of expertise. Celegorm flips back to the first page for further inspection and sees handwritten lyrics- no-  _poems_. The words he makes out depict a youthful love yearned for and never realized, and even though a bit childish, the verses are heartfelt and passionate. He can barely suppress a chuckle. Finding something like this, that Curufin obviously meant to keep secret, feels like hitting the mother-load of blackmail fodder. He can’t wait to tease his brother about the overly saccharine odes to his first crush. As he keeps reading, the poetry gets better. Astoundingly better.  _Kano must have helped him with meter and rhyme and word choice_ , he thinks. The subject is still the same, though, beautiful gold spun hair and sky-blue eyes. Celegorm frowns, he knows who these must be about.

          The last time Celegorm felt a similar all-consuming jealousy, devouring his guts and choking him, was when he’d watched his brother wed the subject of his ballads, the loveliest maiden in Tirion. Calcanis was nearly a head taller than Curufin, her long blond hair had surely been envied by at least half the court, so rare for a pure-blood Noldo, and her glittering blue eyes had inspired a line or two in Maglor’s lyrics; Celegorm was certain of it. The guilt and the self loathing was just a minor irritation compared to the jealous rage he had felt. How dare  _anyone_ steal his brother’s heart from him. Reading the words about his bygone sister-in-law brings back all the ancient destructive feelings until the next line proves that they are clearly not for her, or any  _her_.

          These poems are clearly about a man. As he turns the pages the descriptions become more explicit and more savage in their imagery. Celegorm wants to put the journal back, to set it down exactly as he had found it and leave Curufin to his secrets, none the wiser of Celegorm's knowledge of his desires. He should stop reveling in Curufin’s innermost sexual fantasies but with every new line he’s captivated all over again. He wants to meet the man these are about, if only to be granted the opportunity to drive his spear through his heart; to look him in the eye as the life drains out of him, making himself the unmistakable champion who selfishly stole away his chance for Curufin’s affections.

          The festering emotions he’s harbored for centuries start bubbling to the surface. He remembers the way he tried to avoid Curufin every summer for years in their youth. How he would shiver when their shoulders would touch, how Curufin would twine their fingers together and how he had to pull away when Curufin would lean against him, cursing him for wanting to sit too close and burning up in their shared body heat when he stubbornly refused to move. It was exquisite and so very wrong and Celegorm did what he did best. He ran far away; into Oromë’s forest, joined the hunt and tried his best to forget just how good Curufin could make him feel.

          As the poetry turns from youthfully lovesick to achingly erotic, Celegorm finds himself maddeningly aroused. Knowing these thoughts and desires belong to the brother he longs for; that these words flowed from his fingertips to the pages drives him wild with lust. If he were any more deviant he would delight in palming his swelling cock through his trousers; instead the moan his hand wrings from his throat is steeped in self hatred and shame.

          He turns the page again and instead of more verses he finds rudimentary drawings, innocent sketches of their brothers in their youth. He rips his hand away from his groin as if his cock had caught fire and feels the chill of disgust at what he had been about to do fill his veins. The guilt simmers into a steady churn of loss. What they'd had so long ago, when they were all together, unknowingly carefree and happy. The sketches get better and more accurate and detailed as the subjects age. Their peculiar affection for one another shows as he sees more sketches of himself, details of his own face captured in charcoal and ink. He never realized that Curufin had noticed the small scar on his chin from a particularly vicious hunt with Oromë’s party. It healed over and is completely gone now, but he still worries his thumb over the spot where he had caught a craggy ledge. There had been more of his blood on the rocks than from the wild boar he had speared.

          The next pages nearly make his heart stop. Curufin has drawn him in exquisite detail with scrawled messy notes alongside. His laughing blue eyes drawn and washed with color. _I can’t quite capture their... beauty?_  His nose,  _perfect in the way it looks when crinkled during crude jokes,_  and his lips,  _the way… the way they beg to be kissed and tasted, are they as sweet as mother’s snack cakes?_

Celegorm’s mouth goes dry. Curufin had thought about  _kissing_ him?

          He remembers that day. It was their last hunt together before… before everything had started to change. Before Curufin had married  _her_ and left him. They had departed after the morning meal to hunt and their mother had packed them sweet snacks to tide them over until they returned home. Curufin must have drawn everything from memory because he hadn’t sketched anything that day. Celegorm’s heart throbs against his rib-cage, a savage beat as he turns page after page filled with sketches of nothing but himself. Various compositions, some nude and sensual, lounging and indulgent poses Curufin took great pains to make detailed and flawless, others wild and quick, Celegorm with blade in hand and sparring with an unknown accomplice. The last few are portraits of him snarling with blood-lust glinting in his eyes and looking for a fresh kill, and then nothing- dozens of blank pages yet to be filled.

          He lets the journal drop from his hands to the floor and backs away. Knowing full well what this means and more unsure of anything than he has ever been, he does what he does best: he runs. His boot heels thud on the cold stone floor and he rips the door open - only to find Curufin reaching for the same handle. He isn’t sure what to do. His brain screams at him to yank Curufin into his chambers by his belt loops, to plunder his cruel mouth with kisses until pliant and lax under his own. He wants to sensually caress every inch of his brother so that he won’t remember what it’s like to be without his intimate touch.

          Flight prevails over fight. Celegorm hears Curufin’s voice echo off the walls as he stomps down the corridor, asking if he had found the book he had been looking for. He turns the corner without answering, picking up his pace, leaping down two, then three steps at once. He has to get away, to breathe fresh air and clear his head. This is too much. All he can hear is the racing of his own heartbeat and pounding of his boots. Curufin could have been screaming after him, and he wouldn’t have stopped. He's overwhelmed, confused and angry. The unhelpful, bitter thoughts of  _“what if”_  burning everything else out.

          He bursts through the doorway leading to the stables, not caring that the sun is setting, or that snow is starting to fall, not acknowledging the guardsmen calling after him, greeting him.

“Lord Tyelkormo, would you like me to tack your horse?” a smaller stable hand asks as Celegorm barges into the building, a determined scowl etched into his face.

          He brushes past him with a curt shake of his head and swiftly mounts the first tacked horse that can carry his weight.

          Riding across the wintry plains isn’t what he yearns for, his heart's desire is behind him in the fortress wearing a confused look in his bedroom entryway, but it’s the next best thing. He needs to forget. The winds whipping his face and the false sense of freedom of riding aimlessly in the open will never be the same as running in Oromë’s forest, but it will have to do.

It's all he has.


	2. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curufin discovers his carelessness, Tyelko broods in the snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you again to my amazing beta, coraregina! <3 u da bes.  
> 

          Curufin watches as Celegorm stumbles away from his bedchambers, fleeing down the corridor. His question concerning the whereabouts of the book Celegorm asked for fall on deaf ears as his brother whips around the corner without a word, avoiding him altogether. Curufin quirks an eyebrow and strides into his room without much heed to Celegorm’s odd behaviour. If his brother wants to prance around the fortress at breakneck speed, that's his own business.

          His pulse quickens when he shuts the door and the low lamplight reveals his private journal open on the floor. Panic rises into his throat and he curses under his breath, realizing that Celegorm has most likely read enough to run. He throws the scrolls he had been carrying onto his desk and turns on his heel to catch Celegorm. This will not do and he'll have to explain himself, to convince him that what he had seen is a childhood aberration and that it means nothing, while deep in recesses of Curufin’s heart he knows it means  _everything_. Saving their friendship by denying his infatuation means bearing a broken heart, but he has suffered through worse. Losing his youngest brother and father had been agonizing, but losing Celegorm while he still lives is not an option. So he runs.

          He balls his trembling hands into tight fists before pushing open the heavy wooden door, and curses his body as the nervous adrenaline makes his legs shake and he nearly loses his balance down the stairs. He closes his eyes. Exhales. He can do this and he can't let the guardsmen or the staff see him unraveling. The cold, snow-filled air catches him by surprise but he doesn't have time to fetch his riding cloak. His tunic, stained from his time spent in the forge, will have to suffice and the cold doesn't sting quite as much as It would otherwise.

          He storms into the stables, and a worried-looking stable hand greets him. “Lord Curufinwë, would you-”

Curufin cuts him off. “Are there any tacked horses?”

“No, my lord.”

          Curufin curses and opens the stall gate where his mare is stabled, and she nickers as he leads her out into the frigid winds. He offers her whispered apologies and tosses his leg over her bare back, jolting her into motion and begging her to carry them swiftly onto the frozen plain. He knows she will resent him for riding her so hard without tack but he has to find Celegorm  _now_. He scans the horizon as well as he can from a full gallop, finally spotting his brother slowing to a trot about a mile off in the distance. As they spot each other, Curufin speeds up and Celegorm comes to a full stop atop a small hill, sitting stiff on a borrowed horse. Curufin presses forward, riding upwards in the gathering snow, hoping that he can repair the damage from what Celegorm has seen.

          When he reaches the top of the hill, he sees Celegorm dismount to watch him, waiting with silent eyes and rigid bones, the snow falling and melting across his wind chapped skin. Curufin finally feels the sting of the cold on his nose and in his eyes and knows he must look frantic; he's not outfitted for riding or the cold and his hair is a disheveled mess.

          As he slows to a trot, his eyes watering in the freezing wind, he can make out the stressed set of Celegorm’s shoulders and grim line of his mouth. If he were more cowardly, he would turn his mare around and flee. But he isn’t and running would cause more complications than solutions and he would rather endure heartbreak than be named a coward.

          Curufin’s legs wobble as he dismounts. He blames it on the freezing, overzealous ride, but knows it’s the way Celegorm’s eyes are so icy and boring into his. It's the only time he’s ever thought of his eyes as anything but the warmest shade of blue, so he steels his own and sets his mouth into the scowl he’s accustomed to wearing like armor.

“Tyelko-” Curufin starts, shuffling through the fallen snow to face Celegorm toe to toe.

“What was that, Curufinwë?” Celegorm whispers into the wind, looking away. The sunset reflects like fire in his windblown hair.

“Tyelko, I can explain…”

“Then explain, Curvo. Tell me what all of that was. Tell me you weren’t writing love poetry to me as a child. Tell me you weren’t dreaming of  _kissing_ me on our hunting trips.”

“I can’t tell you that, Tyelkormo, because it would be a lie. But it’s no longer true.”

Celegorm shut his eyes and nodded. “So you were in love with me.”

“It was a stupid childhood crush,” Curufin scoffs, nervously biting at his lower lip, worrying the skin between his teeth.  

          “Not from the looks of it. Curvo, why would you have kept it if you...” Celegorm pauses, taking in Curufin’s squared jaw and deep frown. His brother always manages to look down the end of his nose at everyone despite his short stature, but the nuances of his brother’s body language scream at him. Curufin's folded arms gripping his own flesh until his knuckles are white, his lips close to bleeding from chewing them, and the way his haughty sneer doesn't reach his eyes, although fear and heartbreak have.

His voice softens, “Curvo, tell me you aren’t in love with me.”

          Curufin’s mouth goes dry. He has told plenty of lies in his life, small half-truths in his youth to their parents, exaggerations to strangers to get out of complicated situations, and he’s manipulated and cheated to survive, but he’s never lied to Celegorm before. Yet admitting his unseemly affection will ruin any semblance of solidarity they have left, and so instead he’s stays silent, both unwilling to lie and unable to come clean.

He slows his breathing and braces himself for rejection, for the letdown that will shatter his heart, when he’s interrupted.

“Curvo, I saw the whole journal. Not just the earliest--” Celegorm pauses, searching for the right words “--entries. I saw  _everything_.”

          “The whole thing?” Curufin pales as his cheeks flush and his steady deep voice shakes. He knows he won’t be able to manipulate his way out of this. Celegorm has always been the one who knows him best, Curufin let him in long ago, Celegorm is under his skin and deception isn’t an option anymore. Being vulnerable and honest isn’t familiar, Curufin feels sick and flayed bare to the bone, and he may as well be serving up his raw beating heart for demolition.

          Celegorm nods somberly, turning his head to look at Curufin. His eyes soften as he asks, “What were you thinking?” Then shaking his head, “Leaving that out?  _Anyone_ could have found it. You’re lucky it was me, could you imagine if someone else--”

          “I wasn’t thinking, I... ” Curufin cuts him off, not wanting to hear platitudes. He chooses his next words carefully. “I should have destroyed it.” He thinks back to all the times he could have been rid of it, tossed it in the waters while crossing the sea, burned it with the ships or even as kindling in his bedroom fireplace. But the thought of his innermost desires, his love for his brother going up in smoke or washed away for all eternity, makes him nauseous.

          “But you didn’t and you were uncharacteristically careless. That was stupid. Leaving something so  _damning_ out like that, for anyone to discover. Be more careful with your heart, brother.”

          “My heart? Of what concern is my heart to  _you_?” Curufin growls in a display of exaggerated disdain, knowing the answer he desires, baiting his brother into a conversation he isn’t entirely sure he’s prepared for.

          “Apparently it concerns me a great deal, Curvo." Celegorm quiets and whispers, "If I'm right, and I think I am, your heart is of utmost concern to me. Don't forget that I can read you, better than myself sometimes and hiding from me won’t work. Not for long, anyway.”

          Curufin stands speechless as Celegorm moves closer, brushing Curufin’s unbraided hair away from his face and tidying the locks where the wind had snarled them into knots. Then instead of retreating, Celegorm smooths his hands across Curufin’s snow-damp tunic, rubbing warmth into his skin, reassuring him that he’s not alone. Celegorm can feel the tension bleeding out of his brother with every passing second. The way Curufin has always melted into his touch makes him realize that he's been blind, Curufin had been blatantly obvious and Celegorm had been too wrapped up in his own emotional crisis to notice.

          “Seeing as how the latest entry was dated from last night and you left the book open on your desk, it almost seems like you intended me to find it.”

          Curufin shakes his head and mouths “no,” silently. He hadn't meant Celegorm to find it, but he had also expected this conversation to take a drastically different turn. “I didn’t intend for you to find it. But I’m not entirely unhappy that you did.”

          “Good.” Celegorm uses his free hand to tip Curufin's chin up, and dips down and hovers, his lips just above his brother’s, waiting anxiously for permission. When Curufin shivers under his touch and whimpers what sounds like "yes" under his breath, Celegorm closes the distance and brushes their lips together so gently that it makes Curufin's bones ache.

          Curufin pulls back sharply. “Tyelko, what are you doing?” he asks in one final, hollow attempt to resist what his soul aches for.

          “Trying to kiss you…?” Celegorm questions. His body reads as confident and imposing but the look in his eyes tells a different story, a hint of profound insecurity Curufin can't recall ever seeing. Not in Valinor, not even in Losgar.

          Curufin lets his eyes slip shut. This is everything he's longed for, Celegorm's lips so close he can feel his breath on his tongue.

“Why?”

“Because this is something I’ve wanted to do for a very,  _very_ long time.”

          “Oh...” Curufin huffs, letting his mouth gape open before the corners twitch upward, a smile so brief that anyone else would have missed it. The snow starts falling in heavier gusts around them, soaking their clothes and spoiling the work Celegorm had put into smoothing Curufin’s hair. Curufin watches the knotted ends of Celegorm’s hair catch and tangle in the wind and without hesitation, reaches out and wraps his fingers through the ends, like he used to do when they were children. “I missed you when you left me for Orormë. I was so jealous--”

          Celegorm’s bark of laughter cuts him off, “I only left because I was so infatuated with you. I always wanted to join Oromë, but...” He looks down, recalling the bitter reasons why he left. “But I knew that you were going to be married, and I was jealous and angry and I wanted to hurt you, and the only way I knew how was to leave.”

          “You were jealous? Of my wife?” Curufin finally smiled, “I don’t see why. You know why I married her, right?”

          Celegorm frowns, truly confused for the first time, “I don’t. I never did, actually. Why?”

          “I assumed it was obvious, and I’m sure it was to some. She was my best friend during my apprenticeship with grandfather. And,” he laughs softly to himself, “she always reminded me of you. I always thought that if I couldn't have you, I might as well settle for the next best thing.”

Celegorm gapes as the pieces fall into place, Calcanis’ blond hair and blue eyes, her long legs and broad shoulders. But beyond her looks, she was outspoken and known for her fiery temper. His brother had married the female version of himself and he had never seen it.

“Did you love her?”

          “I love  _you_ ,” Curufin confesses. Spitting it out feels like ripping a thorn from his foot, the immediate pain receding but the gaping hole it leaves behind still aching, needing to be filled, to heal. “So, do I have to beg for your forgiv--” Before he can finish Celegorm has reclaimed his mouth, pressing his chilled lips to Curufin’s, harder this time, nipping and licking at his lower lip while he tangles his fingers in Curufin’s hair at the base of his neck. His other hand clamps onto one hip, pulling them together.

          Curufin gasps at the sudden contact, feeling Celegorm’s arousal against his stomach and parting his legs as a heavy heat pools in his own groin. He whines and licks into his brother’s mouth before biting at his full, soft lips, then scratches his fingers down Celegorm's back, grabbing handfuls of his well-muscled ass and biting lingering marks into his jaw.

          Celegorm seizes the opportunity to make a hasty confession, “I love you too,” he says, the words pouring out of his mouth and extinguishing the burning tension between them. ”I always have, even when we were too young to really know what love was.”

          Celegorm's words make Curufin long for the taste of his tongue, and uses both hands to pull his brother down to kiss him slowly, taking complete control as he guides their tongues and lips together, his nails biting into his jaw. Sensually, he cards his hands back through Celegorm’s hair and caresses the tips of his ears, before replacing his fingers with his teeth and tongue and nipping firmly. The low moan that rumbles up from deep in Celegorm’s chest is accompanied by a thrust of his hips, and Curufin realizes he has his brother completely at his mercy. He smoothes his hands down Celegorm’s flanks and grips his hips tightly once more as he reclaims his mouth, feeling the rumble of Celegorm’s moans as Curufin strokes him through his trousers.

          Celegorm slowly pulls away, panting, touching his forehead to Curufin’s, “I think we should stop--” and he looks over Curufin’s shoulder, quickly adding “--for now,” as he feels Curufin tense in his arms. “We should take this to a more… private location. I think the entire guard can see us from here.”

          In the distance, Curufin can see members of their personal guard milling around the fortress walls, none of them looking in their direction in a very purposeful way. “They have definitely spotted us, Tyelko. But I doubt that anyone who values their life will say a word.”

“You’re probably right, but still. Let's ride back.”

          Curufin nods. “I’m riding with you, I don't think she will appreciate me riding on her bareback again.”

          “I can't believe you rode like that the whole way.” Celegorm mounts his borrowed horse and pulls Curufin up behind him.

          “I wasn't thinking…and you’re one to talk, only in a tunic and trousers.” Curufin quiets when Celegorm turns and presses a quick kiss to the side of his mouth.

          “Hush. As much as I appreciate your desperation, brother, don’t let me be the reason for not making clear decisions. And let me worry about my attire.”

          Curufin nods, biting back a comment implying that  _all matters involving disrobing Celegorm were of great concern to him_ , and instead turns to call his mare, letting Celegorm tell her follow them back to the stables before he nudges his own horse’s sides. With his arms wrapped firmly around his brother, Curufin suddenly becomes very aware of his hardening cock, now pressed firmly against Celegorm’s lower back. With every lope of the horse he's thrust forward into Celegorm, who murmurs, “Curvo, as much as I love that, can we wait until we aren't riding a horse? I’d much rather be riding _you_ when you do that.”

          “I’m not--” Curufin grins into his neck, pressing his nose into the tender flesh behind one ear and inhaling Celegorm's wild scent for the first time. ‘I’m not doing this on purpose.”

          “Sure you aren't.” Celegorm chuckles and leans back against his brazen brother while steering them towards the distant stables. Curufin’s mare keeps pace beside them.

          "I promise, brother. I would never lie to you.” Curufin loosens his grip and slips his hand down, over Celegorm's inner thigh, letting his knuckles drag across his obvious erection. “I am, however, doing  _this_ on purpose.”

          “Shameless, Curufinwë. You know they can definitely see us now. You should to stop, otherwise we'll end up giving everyone quite the demonstration of just how  _deep_ our affections run.”

          Curufin manages to keep his hands a chaste distance from Celegorm’s groin for the remainder of their journey.


	3. Bloodlines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curufin makes up for lost time. Celegorm gets dirty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to everyone for reading! this is the final chapter for now. also a big thank you to my beta coraregina! You've been a massive help! <3

          The stable attendant takes their horses and leads the animals away to be groomed and fed. Celegorm usually prefers care for his mount himself, but with more pressing matters at hand he loops his fingers around Curufin’s wrist and guides them away, passed the silent guardsmen and through the heavy doors. They walk side by side and perfectly in sync with each other. He glances down just in time to catch the briefest of smiles, mirroring the curling corners of Curufin’s lips, both of them humming with the anticipation of what's to come.

 

          Before Celegorm can ask has what has him so amused, Curufin pulls him by his belt into a dark alcove at the top of the stairwell and presses his lips firmly to Celegorm’s jaw, painting a line of hot, open-mouthed kisses down his neck. tasting rich salt of his sweat and smelling the tang of sweet iron thrumming in his hunter’s blood just below his skin blending beautifully with evergreen and cold, he asks “Your chambers or mine?” in between nipping, tasting, and inhaling before adding, “Mine are are closer…”

 

          “Yours, then," Celegorm all but melts into Curufin’s oral ministrations, "the sooner we're out of our clothes, the better.”

 

          Curufin takes the opportunity to flip their positions, rolling Celegorm back against the hard stone and growling as he bites his heaving chest. He presses his face into the hollow at the base of Celegorm’s throat and inhales his scent. The clean winter air and juniper are blending with something growing stronger, something unique to only Celegorm. Before Curufin makes one of the more dubious decisions of that century and sucks his brother off in the open hallway, he twines their fingers together and pulls them away toward his private rooms.

 

          Curufin locks the door once they’re inside. The low lamp light is still flickering from earlier, warming the bare skin that Celegorm has revealed now that he’s made quick work of ripping off his snow-damp tunic. Celegorm crowds into his space, pressing his winter chapped lips to Curufin’s. He retreats only enough to snug his nose into the dip behind Curufin’s ear, breathing him in and panting, “Ah, Curvo, you’ve always smelled so _good_ , but oh-- you smell _incredible_ , better than anything I’ve smelled before.” Celegorm inhales the familiar notes of the grit and pitch from the forge he was accustomed to their father wearing in their youth, and then Curufin when he’d come of age to start apprenticing. Now he’s pulled in, beckoned forth by something seductive and molten and all together new and _Curvo_.

 

          Curufin smirks with an arrogance that the fifth son of a dethroned dead prince has no right to bear when he hears Celegorm’s assessment. He starts tearing at the laces of his tunic, tossing the sodden garment haphazardly to the floor. Celegorm is already scrambling to unlace his breeches, his nervous fingers fumbling the ties while Curufin is toeing off his boots one at a time. Their hands move between buckles and laces and grabbing at freshly exposed skin, both of them trying to win the unspoken competition to see who can lick the most area of each other's mouth.

 

          Pulling back, Curufin tugs his tunic over his head and wonders when it got so warm in his chambers. The fire is lower than when he left earlier, and the way Celegorm is swaying on his bare feet as he walks backwards towards Curufin's extravagant bed makes his skin prickle. The low lamplight makes his sweat-damp skin glisten and Curufin can’t recall ever having seen anything more radiant. And that scent. _What **is** that?_

 

          Curufin shucks his breeches, then steps out of them effortlessly and stalks over the chill floor and cages Celegorm against the bed. He tracks the lingering fragrance, lets it overtake his senses and physically wash over him. He knows that scent in an instant when he gets close enough for his vision to narrow in on Celegorm, it’s heightened arousal accompanied by the need to fulfill a millennium of suppressed desire. Curufin’s skin is warm and itchy from want and his mouth, dry just minutes earlier, won’t stop watering.

 

          Everything is suddenly fixed on one pinpoint electric urge to get into him. Curufin would claw his own eyes out to taste him, to suffocate himself in the thick scent leaking off his brother. Celegorm smells like perfection, like he's the only thing Curufin's ever craved, and he buries his face in damp blond hair and inhales. This is something he's dreamed of doing his whole life, and it’s so much better than he's ever imagined.

 

          Curufin’s hands claw over every inch of bare skin he can reach as his mouth closes in over Celegorm’s, and it’s better when they're nearly naked just like he assumed it would be. And Celegorm’s moaning into his mouth high pitched and keening, like he’s begging to get fucked hard. Curufin’s one remaining thought that isn’t on the quickest way to get Celegorm’s remaining clothes off and pound him into the mattress tries to focus on what Celegorm might want.

 

          “Tyelko, do you--” he keens at the loss immediately when he breaks their kiss to ask what needs to be asked, “--do you want me to fuck you?”

 

          Curufin has his brother pinned down on the bed, his hands gripping his wrists deathy tight above his head and his legs straddling Celegorm’s hips and how did they get here so quickly? Celegorm looks Curufin dead-set square in the eye, his pupils are pinpricks and he’s wearing such a savage expression that Curufin would fear for his life in any other situation.

 

          “Curvo-- Curufinwë. _Brother, please_. Please fuck me,” Celegorm grinds out in the most desperately animalistic of timbres and it goes straight to Curufin’s blindingly hard cock. Any question Curufin had about who's in control is put to rest.

 

          Curufin releases the wrists to pull at the stubborn laces of Celegorm’s breeches, and ends up ripping the ties free, the fine suede tearing. He tosses the ruined material aside, not sure which one of them cares less. Within seconds he’s back on his feet and yanking the offending garment to Celegorm’s knees, then to the floor and flinging it across the room. He momentarily laments that he didn’t manage to toss it into the fire. He’d burn every single pair of Celegorm’s pants if it meant he could have him wanton in his bed like this for the rest of eternity.

 

       When Curufin has fantasized about Celegorm being in his bed for the first time, it’s always been a tastefully romantic affair. He would take his time slowly undressing Celegorm, exploring every inch of his skin, teasing him and tasting him, promising to love him forever and slowly kneeling to suck his cock. The way Curufin would gently turn him over and lick him open until Celegorm is squirming with need and his body is shaking with desire, begging Curufin to fuck him, flies right out the window as soon as he sees Celegorm splayed out, arching his back off the bed like the most fucking delicious wet dream he could have ever envisioned.

 

          He grabs Celegorm’s legs and flips him onto his stomach, and scratches his nails down his ass and thighs, leaving trails of angry red skin. “Tyelko, oh fuck, you smell so amazing, fuck I’ve wanted you for so long, I have to _taste_ you.” Celegorm whines and spreads his legs without any encouragement, begging to see Curufin’s words realized. Curufin grips the meatiest part of Celegorm’s ass with one hand and the other jerks his hips up off the bed. He pulls him open and purrs, “I can’t wait to make you mine. And you’re so ready for me. I can’t wait to mark you up, inside and out.” He kneels on the bed to sink his teeth into the other side of Celegorm’s ass, biting hard enough to make Celegorm’s legs shake and his howls echo off the cold stone walls.

 

          “Mine,” Curufin growls in the lowest and most possessive tone he can manage, licking the film of fresh blood away from his teeth before getting his first real taste of Celegorm. He licks long stripes up from Celegorm’s balls to his tailbone, pulling the flat stretch of his tongue across his hole.

 

          “Curvo don’t--!” Celegorm pants and squirms under him, “Don’t stop.”

 

          He starts slow, licking lazily over and over while Celegorm whimpers and spreads his legs wider, shifting back, aching to take more than Curufin is offering.  Curufin finally arches his neck to get the perfect angle to dip inside, and properly tongue-fuck him. Curufin’s mouth is dripping with spit and he couldn’t care less, not when Celegorm ruts back into him as he drags his teeth across his over stimulated skin.

 

          Curufin is making noises that should leave him ashamed; hungry, wet sounds, but all he can think about is getting his tongue deep enough into Celegorm to lick at his heartstrings. Curufin snarls, leaving an obscene amount of saliva in his wake, when Celegorm’s shoulder dips. He grabs Celegorm’s wrist and shoves his hand away when he strains to touch himself.

 

          “Leave your hands by your head.”

 

          Celegorm whines, rolling his hips but complying anyway, and Curufin growls. “Good. Now, don’t move.” Celegorm is dripping, wet enough for Curufin to start thinking about fingering him open. He’s dizzy with want, certain that his fëa is about to ascend from his corporeal body into the heavens, Celegorm is that delicious.

 

          “You taste,” Curufin nuzzles his nose into Celegorm’s heated skin, “oh fuck, you taste better than I ever imagined. So good.” He slithers up Celegorm’s body and presses two of his fingers to Celegorm’s chewed up, bruised lips, “Open,” Curvo commands, and starts to unravel when his brother’s tongue curls around his fingers immediately. “Get them nice and wet for me,” he husks, his voice dropping at the sight of Celegorm shutting his eyes and making most profane noises that Curufin has ever had the pleasure of hearing, until an indecent amount of spit is dripping from Curufin’s hand.

 

          Curufin pops his fingers out of Celegorm’s mouth and slips his first finger inside him, crooking it with breathtaking results. Celegorm arches his back and looks over his shoulder, his cheek flat against the sheets and his swollen flushed lips parted while he pants. “Please, Curvo.”

 

          “Please what?” Curufin takes his finger out of Celegorm, teasing him.

 

          Celegorm whines, “Please touch me, finger me, open me up, _please_.”

 

          Curufin looks to the side table, he’s going to need something more slick if he’s going to fuck Celegorm as hard as he has planned. He gives his brother’s ass a sound slap and commands, “Only if you keep begging pretty for me." He slides off the bed, pointing back at Celegorm. "And don’t move.”

 

          He grabs a bottle of oil off the table, rips the cork out with his teeth and spits it across the room. This time it lands square in the fireplace. Curufin pours a liberal amount straight onto his aching cock and coats it in two quick pulls. He spreads the rest across Celegorm’s ass, working a finger back into him. Celegorm ruts back, moaning and rubbing his face on the silky fabric, pinning Curufin with his feverish stare. Curufin tries to keep his wits about him, to control himself and not tear his brother apart entirely.  He pushes a second finger into him and the whimper from deep in Celegorm’s chest doesn't help his resolve one bit. The third finger has Celegorm arching back into Curufin’s hand and whimpering for more and Curufin decides that’s exactly what he’s going to give him.

 

          He slowly pulls his fingers, slick with spit and oil, out of Celegorm and wraps them around the base of his cock. His other hand bruises fingerprints into Celegorm’s hip, to steady himself and to remind Celegorm who’s in charge. He moves his hand to Celegorm’s lower back and lines his cock up and thrusts in as slowly as possible, which is twice as fast as he should be moving but he can’t help himself.

 

          Curufin has had copious amounts of sex before. He’s been in filthy situations with strangers and put his dick in questionable places, and he knows the feeling, the way the filth clings to his insides and twists until the heat bubbles over to get him off.  His wife had been wild in bed, downright filthy, willing to go that extra mile to get off. They’d had a fantastic sex life together, which was how they had ended up with an elfling within the first year of their marriage, but he feels bad comparing her to Celegorm because there is no way she could ever stack up. Celegorm is on a completely different level. The filth gets him off, but Celegorm? Celegorm makes his heart  _ache_.

 

          He’s so tight and hot around him, a fluttering grip that feels too good to be true. Celegorm is pliant and pawing at the silk under his fingers, moaning for more and thrusting back until Curufin is buried in him. In _his lover_. The clamor of _mine mine mine_ reverberates in his brain as he finally bottoms out, his hip bones landing with a bruising force into the thickest part of Celegorm’s ass.

 

          “Fuck, Tyelko, you're so _tight_ ,” Curufin rumbles, leaning over Celegorm’s broad back, licking the sweat pooling in the hollow of his spine between his retracted shoulder blades. “Tell me, brother,” Curufin leans as far forward as he can, nuzzling at the nape of Celegorm’s neck, lacing their free fingers together, “have you been taken before?”

 

          “No,” Celegorm whimpers as Curufin bucks forward, “never.” Curufin’s chest rumbles, shaking them both with the low snarl, the primal alpha thrill of being _first_. He slams his hips forward, making Celegorm yelp, and a thunderous snarl spills past his lips as sinks his teeth deep into Celegorm’s tender skin, _claiming_ him.

 

          The sturdy wooden bed creaks as he plows into Celegorm, sweat dripping off both of them and soaking through the sheets. “I’ve wanted you for so long. I've wanted exactly this.” Celegorm ruts back into Curufin, ripping the silk sheets as he bottoms out and takes the entire swell of Curufin’s cock again. He starts mewling and if Curufin couldn’t see his teeth bared in a terrifying grin, he would have guessed he was sobbing. “Mine. You’re _mine_ now.”

 

          Curufin is grateful for their current position, bent forward and braced on their hands, because otherwise he would have collapsed when Celegorm starts to howl as his cock pulses steady streams of cum all over the remains of Curufin’s red silk sheets and his own skin. He's so tight and he grips Curufin’s cock even harder like a vise. Celegorm is unaware of the flood of expletives and _Tyelko_ and _mine_ that Curufin is growling as he licks blood and sweat away after biting more marks into Celegorm’s supple shoulders. The scent of Celegorm’s cum is even better than his skin and sweat, and Curufin’s mouth waters at the way it streaks and drips down his neck onto his face.

 

          Curufin could and has imagined a million things Celegorm could do to push him over the edge, but it’s the way Celegorm shivers under him and whispers his name like a prayer that effectively snaps him inside out. It hits him right in the chest, takes a hold of his heart and squeezes. The overwhelming sizzle coursing through his body makes him crush Celegorm’s hands inside his until he hears bones grinding together as he comes, and screams “ _Tyelko_!” His orgasm is ripped out of him from some deep corner that knows that Celegorm is his forever, and probably always was.

 

          All Curufin can hear is the rush of blood in his ears and what he knows to be Tyelko’s heartbeat as he fills him with white heat and whines as he feels Celegorm clench around him, rolling his hips to wring every last bit out of him. He rips his hand free of Celegorm’s and wraps his fingers around his neck only to shove his nose in his hair, smelling the hot salt of his sweat, the cum streaked across his face and throat, and the thick tang of his blood from where Curufin bit him. Now he can smell himself all over Celegorm as well, and he shudders as the last wave of cum is wrenched from him.

 

          Curufin slowly sits and pulls out, shivering at the way Celegorm clings around his cock and purrs when he’s finally left gaping and well fucked, dripping onto the sheets. What Curufin doesn't expect is for Celegorm to sit up on his haunches and reach back with his hand, to moan when he feels the slick cum dripping out of him and to push it back inside with his fingers. The way Curufin's gone to pieces dreaming about the filthy squelch of his cum dripping off Celegorm’s fingers as he fucks himself is now reality, as if Celegorm has gleaned that particular fantasy straight from his brain.

 

          “Fuck, Tyelko, you’re filthy.” Curufin pulls him back to his chest, still allowing him the space he needs to continue his ministrations while giving Curufin room to press his thumb into the divot of Celegorm’s neck and lap up the blood and streaks of cum.

 

          “I _love you_.” he murmurs across his brother’s hot skin. Celegorm rolls his neck to the side, capturing Curufin’s lips with his own and mumbling “love you, too,” against his open, panting mouth.

 

          Curufin pulls back a fraction. “So, why haven’t we done this before?”

 

          Celegorm huffs and laughs, “I don’t know. But we’re idiots who have a lot of time to make up for.”

 

 


End file.
